


The Grasshopper

by Merwin_Me



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, But not the one you're thinking of, Coffeeshop Owner Peter, Drug Use, M/M, No Angst, Setting - Amsterdam, Stoner Chris, Student Stiles, Unsafe Cycling Practices, coffeeshop, joints, mentions of drug use, weed use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 22:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14681123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merwin_Me/pseuds/Merwin_Me
Summary: There's cycling, Ajax makes a guest appearance, joints are smoked and Peter gets cursed with a deadly virus (no, really).--“Can I sleep upstairs with you tonight?” Stiles stealthily employed the puppy dog eyes, ignoring the hipster behind him who inhaled a bit too much too quickly and started hacking up his lungs.





	The Grasshopper

School was kicking his ass, and that was putting it kindly. Stiles might have been a little bit stupid the past semester, leaving his assignments for the last possible minute. He’d been ignoring the pressure he could feel growing as the pile of homework multiplied daily on his desk and laptop, until ignoring it became physically impossible.

 

As in, he had two assignments due within a week, one of which required a forty page report, while the other one required a fully working program to be presented in front of the class. A program he hadn’t even started designing yet.

 

To make it even worse, finals were starting the week after his presentation, and he would be lying if he said he had taken even a minute to study so far.

 

So the stress was hitting him. And while he had been bravely attempting to work on his assignments back at the apartment, his roommates chose today to have a houseparty.

 

He didn’t mind the house smelling like pot and sweaty teenagers, but the pounding trance music he could do without. As he could the shit alcohol that was literally flying around the room.

 

That taught him to live with a couple of Ajaxieten in their team’s hometown - especially after Ajax had just managed to win the cup.

 

Joke’s on them, their finals started in two days and they would be getting even less studying done that him.

 

Turning a corner, Stiles could see the neon green light of his destination across the canal, and he pedalled a little harder. Crossing the road with barely a look behind him - because by approximately 5 seconds ago there was still no car behind him - Stiles diagonally crossed the bridge, deftly steering around a couple of poles as he bumped onto the pedestrian lane.

 

There was a little luck involved in managing not to hit anyone, or get hit by anyone, on his way to the small bike stand in front of his destination.

 

Making sure to lock and chain his bike, because having it stolen  _ again _ would be a drag, Stiles dug out his wallet on the way to the entrance of his goal; coffeeshop The Grasshopper.

 

The bouncer saw him coming even as he told a couple of teenagers to get lost after checking their IDs, and gave Stiles’ ID a quick glance over before motioning him inside.

 

He was practically a regular here by now, something his dad probably wouldn’t be too proud of if he knew.

 

“My corner still free, Frank?” Stiles asked even as he eased past the mountain of a man.

 

“It’s not your corner.” Frank replied as he frowned at the teenagers attempting, badly, to sneak in past him. “But probably, yes. Peter’s up at the bar, check with him. And you lot, get lost before I call the police and have them call your parents.”

 

“Thanks!” Hitching the strap of his bag a bit higher on his shoulder, Stiles stepped into the thick air of the coffeeshop, feeling the bunched muscles in his back relax a bit from the air heavy with second-hand joint.

 

Instead of moving to the corner he had long since claimed as his own in this stoner heaven, Stiles walked to the bar first, where the coffeeshop’s owner Peter Hale was measuring out a couple of doses for some kids probably only just old enough to buy anything.

 

“Peter!”

 

His shout caused the man to look up with a truly frightening scowl, if the paling teenagers were anything to go by, only for the scowl to ease up when he spotted a madly waving Stiles.

 

“Stiles, I was wondering whether I’d ever see you again.”

 

“Eh, you know how it is with school.” Stiles leaned on the bar a little, looking at the Douwe Egberts coffee maker with poorly hidden longing in his eyes as he did so.

 

Peter gave him a bland look as usual, before moving to make Stiles a cup of coffee he normally didn’t serve to customers. Also as usual. His decision to fix Peter’s website for free as a side project was his best investment as of yet. He didn’t know what the man put in his coffee - honestly he probably didn’t  _ want _ to know either - but it was well worth it.

 

“Yet you normally make your homework here.” Peter placed a steaming hot cup of espresso in front of Stiles, eyebrow raised. “You procrastinated again, didn’t you?”

 

Instead of answering, Stiles grinned a little sheepishly, holding his pointer finger and thumb a little bit apart, fingertips only just not touching. Peter and his goatee didn’t look like they believed him, if the deadpan stare was anything to go by.

 

“I have two projects due.” Stiles gave in when Peter moved as if to take his coffee hostage. “And my finals are in a week.”

 

“You absolute moron. Go to your usual place and tell Chris I told him to move his ass. I’ll bring you coffee every half hour.”

 

“Can I sleep upstairs with you tonight?” Stiles stealthily employed the puppy dog eyes, ignoring the hipster behind him who inhaled a bit too much too quickly and started hacking up his lungs.

 

“Your roommates?”

 

“Ajax won.”

 

Peter conceded at that.

 

“If Chris doesn’t care, I won’t either. I’ll tidy up the guestroom. Bring him some more of this crap, would you?”

 

Stiles blinked a little as a joint was pushed into his one free hand, rolled and all.

 

“Since when does Chris smoke?”

 

“Since...always? I can't believe you haven't noticed that. Go join my dumbass husband and get a second hand high while dying of stress and a caffeine overload.”

 

“Get typhoid.” Stiles muttered in response, wishing he didn’t have his hands full so he could answer in kind when Peter stuck up a middle finger.

 

Moving through the open room with ease, Stiles passed the billiard table until he found his beloved cushy seat in the corner, where the hottest man this side of the room was seated.

 

He still wasn’t sure who he’d pick as his absolute favourite in looks if Chris and Peter were standing side by side, but luckily no one was asking him to.

 

The first thing Stiles noticed when Chris came into sight was that the man was dressed down. Stiles usually only saw him behind the bar or leaving for work, and all those times he’d been dressed in variety of dark suits.

 

Now, however, the man was dressed down, wearing jogging pants and a tank top that revealed a tattoo on his upper arm. Stiles would have never expected  _ Chris _ to have a tattoo. Peter, obviously, considering the knife tattoo on his neck, but not Chris who was dressed in suits and looked expensive, even though he was married to the owner of a coffeeshop.

 

This new side of Chris also looked very relaxed and on his way to stoned already.

 

“Hello Stiles.” Chris looked up from his deck of cards, eyes immediately dragging down to where the joint that Peter had pressed into his hands was still dangling between his fingers. “Oh? Peter didn’t tell me you smoked?”

 

You and Peter talk about me? Is what Stiles wanted to ask, but thankfully he wasn’t the stoned one.

 

“I don’t, it’s for you. Peter also told me to tell you to move out of my seat.”

 

One of Chris’ eyebrows snaked its way up his forehead, before the man moved exaggeratedly slowly to the side on the loveseat, making only just enough space for Stiles to squeeze in besides him.

 

Any other day, Stiles might have protested a little or pushed him off the seat entirely in a joking manner just to avoid having to sit in such close proximity to Chris. But this was a day where his assignments were getting extremely close to actually killing him, so Stiles just slid into the free space, passing the joint along as he did so.

 

“Homework?” Chris asked even as he quickly checked the joint, making a happy humming noise as he seemed to identify the contents.

 

Stiles amended his previous thoughts. The man was well on his way to being hella stoned already if he made  _ that _ sound.

 

“Yep.” Stiles pulled out his laptop and cord, plugging it into the socket besides his seat even as he booted up the system. “Homework and finals to study for. Also, I’m sleeping upstairs tonight, Peter okay-d it.”

 

Well, only if Chris agreed with it, but Chris looked like he wouldn’t mind much of anything right now.

 

“Sure.” Score, that was his sleeping arrangements for tonight sorted. “Do you mind if I light up?”

 

“Dude.” Stiles had to look up just to make sure Chris would be able to admire his truly amazing deadpan stare. “I’m choosing to study in a coffeeshop. If I minded a bit of second-hand weed, I wouldn’t be here.”

 

Instead of answering, Chris shrugged and lit up, taking a slow drag and closing his eyes as he did so, head dropping on the back of the seat.

 

Stiles let himself have a long look at the relaxed man sitting besides him, looking way too edible for someone well and truly stoned and 20 years older than him. He managed to drag his eyes away after a minute of staring at where Chris’ shirt had ridden up, exposing a little bit of deliciously distracting abs, and turned to his laptop.

 

Time to get cracking on those assignments and show them who’s boss.

 

\--

 

They were boss.

 

Stiles was staring at his screen with red eyes, sleep-deprivation and caffeine overload hitting him all at once even as his codes were glaring at him.

 

The coffeeshop around him was empty, Peter having closed an hour or two ago. Stiles couldn’t remember, all he knew was coding and errors and missing syntax and freaky glitchy graphics interrupting his good work, and-

 

“Alright, get up. You need some sleep.”

 

Stiles weakly protested against the hands dragging him out of his seat, watching tiredly as another pair of hands saved his work before closing his laptop.

 

“Nooo, I need coffee, I need to finish.”

 

Stiles attempted to free himself from the tight grip, only to stop struggling and blink as he felt himself being lifted.

 

“Wha-?”

 

Blearily looking up, Stiles could make out a vaguely Peter shaped blob, very slowly realizing he was being carried upstairs.

 

“You need sleep. You’re only fucking up your work right now, and I’m not giving you another cup of coffee until you get a full eight hours.”

 

“Four.” Stiles tried to argue.

 

“Ten.” Peter countered dryly.

 

“Hnrgh.”

 

Peter blinked down at the response, having expected at least another couple of minutes of arguing, only to watch as Stiles’ head rolled to rest against his chest, even breathing indicating that Stiles had fallen asleep.

 

“He’s adorable.” Chris muttered from behind him, leaning a little to the side to get a good look at Stiles’ peaceful face. “I want to keep him.”

 

“On that, we are agreed.”

 

Though contrary to his words, Peter still put Stiles in their guest bedroom, ignoring Chris’ unsubtle motioning towards their own room. Just because they were agreed, didn’t mean Stiles was.

 

“You’ll understand in the morning, dear.” Peter patted Chris on the head, tone more than a little condescending as he led his pouting husband to the bedroom. So he might have passed along a little more joints than usual.

 

And maybe given Chris a bit more White Widow weed before cutting him off than usual. But a stoned Chris made a happy Chris, and a super-stoned Chris made for a loose, open-minded Chris.

 

Peter would be called out on his less than subtle manipulation tomorrow, but it got him a confession of mutual desire out of his husband - which he had definitely recorded - so he’d count it as the win it was.

 

 


End file.
